Page 106 of The Armor of Light
Jarge and Sal pushed their way to the front. The grain had been unloaded from the barge, and Joanie was standing on a pile of sacks.
‘I say, Kingsbridge bakers can buy this grain – at the price it fetched before the war,’ Joanie shouted.
Jarge said quietly: ‘What’s the point of that?’ But Sal had a notion where Joanie was going with this.
‘On condition,’ Joanie added, ‘on condition they promise to sell a four-pound loaf for the old price – seven pence!’
The crowd approved of that.
‘Any baker who tries to break this rule will receive a visit...from some Kingsbridge women...who will explain to him...what he ought to do.’
A cheer went up.
‘Someone find Mr Child. He won’t be far away. He’s wearing a yellow waistcoat. Tell him to come and collect his money. It won’t be as much as he paid for it, but it’s better than nothing. And bakers line up here, please, with your money in your hands.’
Jarge was shaking his head in amazement. ‘My sister,’ he said. ‘One of a kind.’
Sal was worried. ‘I hope she doesn’t get into trouble for this.’
‘She’s prevented the crowd stealing the grain – the justices ought to give her a reward!’
Sal shrugged. ‘Since when have they been fair?’
Several Kingsbridge bakers made their way to the front of the crowd. Silas Child’s yellow waistcoat appeared. There was a discussion, and Sal guessed it was about the exact price of a bushel of grain three years ago. However, the matter seemed to get resolved. Money changed hands, and bakers’ apprentices began to walk away with sacks of grain on their shoulders.
‘Well,’ said Jarge, ‘looks like it’s all over.’
‘Don’t be so sure,’ said Sal.
*
Next day, in petty sessions before the justices, Joanie was accused of riot – a capital offence.
No one had expected this. She had been the one to say the mob could not steal the grain – and yet she faced the death penalty.
Today’s hearing could not find her guilty. The justices could not decide a capital case. They could only convene a grand jury to either commit Joanie for trial at the higher court, the assizes – or dismiss the charge.
‘They can’t commit you,’ Jarge said to Joanie, who had a huge bruise on the left side of her face.
Sal, who had a lump on her head, was not so sure.
Poor Freddie Caines had been flogged at dawn for leading the militiamen’s mutiny. Spade had told Sal that Freddie had volunteered for the regular army, so that he would be pointing his gun at England’s enemies, not at his neighbours. He would join the 107th (Kingsbridge) Foot Regiment.
Hornbeam presided as chairman of justices. Will Riddick sat beside him. There was no doubt about whose side they would take, but they did not have the final say: the decision would be made by the jury.
Sal was pretty sure Hornbeam had not realized that Jarge was oneof his weavers. Hornbeam had hundreds of hands and he would not know them all, or even most. If he did find out he might sack Jarge. Or he might decide it was better to have him in the mill weaving than outside making trouble.
Sheriff Doye had empanelled the jurors, and Sal studied them as they took the oath. They were all prosperous Kingsbridge businessmen, proud and conservative. Plenty of townsmen who qualified to be jurors were liberal-minded – some were even Methodists: Spade, Jeremiah Hiscock, Lieutenant Donaldson and others, but no men of that type were sworn in. Clearly Hornbeam had got Doye to fix the jury.
Joanie pleaded not guilty.
The first witness was Joby Darke, a bargee, who said that Joanie had attacked him and he had defended himself. ‘We had loaded about half the sacks onto the barge, then she showed up with the mob and tried to stop me doing my job,’ he said. ‘So I pushed her out of the way.’
Joanie interrupted. ‘How do you say I did that?’ she said. ‘How did I stop you?’
‘You stood in front of me.’
‘I put my foot on a sack of grain, didn’t I?’
